


I can hear Your voice as You sing over me

by thesaddestboner



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Biblical References, Green Bay Packers, M/M, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Say something."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can hear Your voice as You sing over me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://benched.livejournal.com/132589.html?thread=860909#t860909) at the [anonymous NFL RPS kink meme](http://benched.livejournal.com/132589.html). 
> 
> Title from “I Can Hear Your Voice,” by Michael W. Smith.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://benched.livejournal.com/133153.html) (locked).
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

“Say something.” Aaron rolls onto his back and pulls a pillow under his head.

“Somethin’,” Favre mutters into his forearm.

Aaron reaches out and slaps him lightly on his bare shoulder blade. “No, gimme a sentence or two. A paragraph, even.”

Favre shrugs Aaron’s hand away. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I _guess_ that counts.” Aaron nudges Favre in the shoulder again. “C’mon, you gotta gimme something more to go on.”

Favre lifts his head and glares, mouth set in a thin, unhappy line. “Quit botherin’ me, okay? Tryin’ to get back to sleep here.”

Aaron feathers his fingertips over the wing of Favre’s shoulder blade. “ _Please_?”

Favre sits up with a weary groan and rubs at his eyes with his fists. “Whaddaya want, Rodgers?”

Aaron rests a hand over his bare chest, can feel his heartbeat flutter under his fingertips hummingbird-fast. “Read to me.”

“ _Again_?” Favre twists his mouth into a not-smile. Not quite a frown either though, so that’s a plus.

Aaron offers him a slight nod. “Yeah. Like how your voice sounds. You know that.” His own voice sounds husky, not his own in his ears.

“Alright,” Favre grumbles. He settles down next to Aaron and reaches over him for the dog-eared Bible on the nightstand. He thumbs through it and slips a pretty paper bookmark free. 

Aaron can feel himself drifting closer toward Favre, and Favre angles his head toward Aaron’s shoulder, almost close enough to touch but not quite. His breath is warm, slightly coffee-sour, and it curls in snaky tendrils down over his collarbone.

“ ‘You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride,’ ” Favre says, his voice tickling Aaron’s earlobe, “ ‘you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.’ ”

Aaron closes his eyes and slides a hand down his chest to the waistband of his boxers. Favre snuffs in light disapproval, but says nothing. He only clears his throat and reads on.

“ ‘Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates with choice fruits, with henna and nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree, with with myyrh and aloes and all the finest spices.’ ” Favre pauses. Aaron can feel him shifting next to him, and then Favre’s fingers close around his on his dick.

“Keep reading,” Aaron says.

“Y’never get tired of this?” Favre asks, squeezing on Aaron’s hand.

“Nope.” Aaron locks their fingers together and strokes firmly.

“ ‘You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water streaming down from Lebanon,’ ” Favre murmurs into Aaron’s ear, knocking Aaron’s hand away to finish him off.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
